


Like the Wolf

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, Martin goes into protecc mode, When will my daisy actually return from the war and not be a monster like this fic lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Martin, Basira, and Jon catch up to Daisy. They didn't see her coming. Neither did she. (Based on @speakerunfolding's art)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	Like the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This one is based on speakerunfolding's art!  
> https://speakerunfolding.tumblr.com/post/624716815117991936/me-hiatus-is-fine-i-will-think-about-other

Somewhere, Martin could hear the sigh of fur scratching on dead twigs.

All his movement of reactionary now, now that he had been split from Basira. The last he had seen of her was the flash of the garnet pin on her hijab, before the forest seemed to close between them and wipe her from sight.

They had lost Jon long before that, when Martin suddenly missed the brush of his thin fingers on his jacket, and the first hint of hoarse canine wheezing rattled through the dead leaves.

Basira had known immediately, it seemed, and didn’t slow to try and find Jon, even when Martin had tugged her back and insisted on looking for him. Basira’s answer was short, hissed out through her teeth. They had a Hunter on their tail. Jon was capable. Let’s go.

But now Basira was gone too.

The Hunt was doing it to him – getting him alone, isolating him from the pack. This wasn’t the Lonely, because he was keenly aware that there was indeed a creature stalking through the woods. Daisy. Daisy was stalking.

The trees seemed to lean inwards, entreating him forward, to a hopeful exit, to a maybe escape. The path was almost too clear.

Martin ducked under the branches, into the rough bushes and into the darkened woods beyond the path. It was almost quiet off the path, but he could hear the haggard and hot breathing, now passing beside him, in the brush, and moving at a pace that struck fear directly through his spine.

He caught his first glimpse of Daisy.

Her long, wet maw was agape, a swollen purple tongue lolled out of the side, curling around her neck and the sharp bones that stuck out under her spit matted coat. Each wheeze ignited a sickly green light within her ribcage, which sputtered out in turn as she scraped through the underbrush.

When Daisy disappeared ahead of him, Martin suddenly felt his heart drop directly into his stomach. She hadn’t been hunting him. She was…

There was a terrible howl, splitting the air and seizing Martin with panic. Martin could hear yelling. It was Jon yelling.

Jon was yelling so loud and Martin couldn’t seem to run fast enough. He wasn’t fast enough to know what made the horrible cracking sound, and he would never know how long Jon screamed silently before the sound caught up, and when the resounding _clap_ of thunder that struck the path hit.

Daisy wailed as Martin crashed through the cage of branches. The sound was horrific, and made him trip forward into the sloped path. She thrashed about, dragging her head along the forest floor as the flames crawled up her side and ate away at the rancid fur.

Silvery bullet casings fell from her side, spilling out onto the ground, ringing. The beast fell, scraping the ground pathetically, dragging herself up an embankment. The plants and leaves, however, were too thick, snagging on her open, burned out hide.

Martin dragged himself up on his hands.

“Shut up!”

Jon lay, splayed and motionless on the path. Martin scrambled forward, not even caring to stand as he grasped Jon by the arms to flip him over.

“Jon, Jon, shit,” Martin bent over him, trying to hear any hint of a heart beat over the sounds of Daisy’s wails. He could hear the sound of the eyes sealing up and leaving only Jon’s scars, a welling of blood over his hands and arms, and Jon’s wretched cough. “Oh my God you’re alive.”

The wound in Jon’s side was wide, a clear map of the crooked teeth of the hellhound, a triangle of punctures through Jon’s jacket and shirt.

Jon’s eyes, his own eyes, rolled back in his head, but there was a bare hint of a smile that touched his now bloodied dimples. “Found you.”

“Don’t be the worst right now please.” Martin slid his arms beneath Jon, cradling him up against his chest. Jon’s head was secured against his shoulder, but Martin could feel through Jon’s coat how tender the ribs were – crushed.

Daisy rolled through the dirt again, the last of the flames extinguished from her coat. She was even more gristled now – the lip on the right side of her face was burned completely away, giving her a lopsided, blistered snarl.

_Hunt. Hunt. Kill. Thrash and make bleed. Hunt._

“Daisy.”

Her breath rattled out of her burned chest cavity. _Simsss…_

“Stay back.”

Martin heard a gun click above his head. Basira braced herself against his back, leveling her pistol at the beast.

“Hello Daisy.”

The gun cracked, and Daisy staggered back, head, caught upwards from the impact. Her burned out eye was burst, and the beast staggered to the side, catching against the bank again.

“Martin. I need some alone time with Daisy.”

The grip she had on his shoulder tightened, and she helped him stand, all while keeping her gun pointed at the half dead creature.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m positive, Martin.” Basira’s eyes didn’t waver. “I need to help her one last time.”

Jon let out the barest hiss of pain when Martin stood. The blood was already crusted on his shirt. Martin would guess that if he took it off, there would be no open wound to bind anymore. Martin didn’t take him far, only deep enough that he couldn’t see Basira anymore through the thicket.

Martin leaned against a tree and let himself slide down into a sitting position, cradling Jon carefully on his lap. Jon tensed for a moment, and there was a sickening pop in his chest, suddenly bringing it back into its fullness. His breathing no longer wheezed like a poked balloon, now it was evening out and coming in quiet puffs.

“Jon, are you okay?”

“I didn’t see that one coming.”

A gunshot rang through the trees.

“I don’t think she saw us coming, either.”


End file.
